


A Knight to Remember

by destinedtothelight



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Multi, royal au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-18
Updated: 2014-06-03
Packaged: 2018-01-25 14:40:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 14,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1652309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destinedtothelight/pseuds/destinedtothelight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prince Armin and Princess Christa, children of King Erwin, live in a mundane kingdom with mundane duties. Well, most days, anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The castle was almost silent on days like these; rain pattered down onto the weary stone, making music that sounded almost deliberate instead of mere precipitation. With everyone in their respective chambers, there was little excitement. Armin sat poised on his stool, drawing the miry scenery outside. He wasn't particularly focused on the drawing, just adding strokes here and there. He mostly stared outside, not thinking about anything important. Even Bertholdt, his body guard, was at ease; he was shuffling a deck of cards, sword in easy reach, sitting in a chair near Armin—near enough to protect him from any possible threat, but far enough to be considered a comfortable distance.

Armin tilted his head at the sound of pattering feet, startled out of his languid stupor. He placed the beginnings of his drawing in a secure place and opened the heavy door just as Christa bounced in. Everybody in the castle could recognize the sound of Christa coming their way, especially Armin, so she never bothered to wait and see if a door was opened for her or not. Christa was Armin's twin sister, older by two minutes, and the two could not be more opposite. Her bodyguard, Annie, followed directly behind her in a stiff gait that seemed quite uncomfortable. Contrasting to her hard build and formal pace she held a pair of dainty shoes in one hand.

Christa skipped directly past Armin and jumped onto his bed with no warning. Annie stopped in the doorway, refusing to enter a room with another bodyguard without permission. The pair of shoes hung limply from two fingers.

“M'lady,” she inquired quietly but firmly. “Perhaps you should put on your shoes.”

“Hmm, no thanks!” Christa chirped.

“It is castle protocol,” Annie insisted.

“But today isn't really a formal day, now is it?” she countered.

Annie glanced hesitantly at Armin, unsure of how to proceed. It was out of line for her to enforce anything on Christa that did not directly involve her safety.

He only shrugged apologetically. “You could go join Bertholdt. I'm sure he wouldn't mind some company, and I'm certain whatever Christa has to say or do will not take long,” he said with a meaningful glance at his sister.

Annie marched over to the chair opposite Bertholdt and sat with her back ramrod straight on the edge of her chair, refusing to look at any of the people in the room. After a few moments, she decided to respectfully watch the twins from her spot.

Under Christa's insistence and “older sibling authority,” Armin's shoes were now in a corner of the room, and he sat delicately with his legs underneath him on his bed, across from her. She bounced up and down, creasing his perfectly made bedsheets, and held out the suspense of whatever fantastical story she was going to share.

“Yes?” Armin prompted.

“Don't rush me.” She stuck out her tongue. “Anyway,” she continued, “this morning, little brother, I decided to go for an early morning horse ride—”

“Christa!” Armin gasped, knowing where the story was headed.

“Oh, hush, you're no better.” Ignoring Armin's scandalized expression, she continued, “Well, the two of us were in the horse's stall, blocked from sight, and you'll never guess who just happened to come in.” Armin knew about Christa and Ymir, the head stable hand. Bertholdt knew, and Annie had some idea (though not who it was), but the bodyguards were forbidden to share any personal information with the king about their charges. Christa had been sneaking off to see Ymir whenever she had the chance.

“Who walked in? Did Father finally catch you?” he asked dryly.

“No, of course not! You know I'm much more careful than that. It was that knight, the dark-haired boy with the increasingly attractive forearms. You wouldn't happen to know who it could possibly be?” she asked innocently.

Armin blushed a deep red. “Yes, of course I know, now get on with the story!” he hissed.

The knight she was referring to was Armin's childhood friend, Eren Jaeger, a boy Armin had not so secretly liked since they had met. Eren was a year older than Armin, and became a knight when given the choice. Armin reached up and touched the pendant on the necklace hidden underneath his shirt.

He shifted, waiting for Christa to continue. “He had his off-duty clothes on, and his shirt caught on a hook on the wall. He had to take off his shirt to get in untangled.” She paused unnecessarily.

“And?” Armin unashamedly did not hide his impatience. It flickered in his mind that Annie and Bertholdt probably knew exactly who they were talking about, but he did not care and did not linger on the thought.

“And,” she emphasized, “he has a tattoo.”

It took Armin a few moments to comprehend what she said. He took a deep breath through his nose, and his mind whirled. How could Eren have a tattoo that Armin did not know about? Armin knew everything about Eren, from the tips of his long toes to the top of his messy-haired head. It felt wrong that some part of Eren should be unfamiliar to Armin in the least. He felt vaguely uncomfortable.

“What did it look like?” he asked slowly.

“Armin, you dirty boy!” Christa mockingly chastised him, completely misinterpreting his thoughts. “It was a symbol, I think. I wasn't close enough to tell. Just thought you'd like to know.”

With that she stood and bounced out of the room, Annie obediently behind her. Christa gave a casual, “See you later!” over her shoulder.

Armin went over to where Annie was sitting and tucked himself into a small ball.

“This boy...he is Jaeger?” Bertholdt asked. Armin tilted his head, surprised that Bertholdt spoke.

“Yes, how did you know?”

“His father was my medic many years ago.” He paused, seeming to be searching for words. “Eren is good.”

“Thank you.”

“You should not become upset by this. He has not changed to your dislike.”

Bertholdt was silent and stony again after that, but his usual stoniness seemed more relaxed. He was not generally a man of many words, so Armin took this as a blessing of sorts. The rest of the morning and early afternoon passed peacefully; Armin read a book with Bertholdt at his side and made comments every few pages. Bertholdt smiled fondly when he wasn't looking.


	2. Chapter 2

Later, during the evening meal, Armin was content to listen to Christa's amicable chatter punctuated by his father's low comments. He poked at his food while Christa detailed the finer points of a new garment she was sewing. He dozed in and out of focus, content, until the sound of his name pulled him back to reality, pricking his ears up much like a rabbit sensing danger.

“So, Armin, son,” King Erwin said in his calm, authoritative voice.

“Yes?”

“Has anyone been to your liking of late?”

Armin almost choked on air. “I—I don't know what you mean?”

“You're almost seventeen,” Erwin continued obliviously. “It's time you start thinking about a spouse.”

Armin visibly relaxed. “Yes, Father. This, uh, spouse...must be...?”

“Must be of noble blood, of course. You know this already, Armin,” Erwin said, exasperated.

“Yes, Father.” His shoulders slumped slightly.

Christa kicked him under the table, a warning gleam in her stare: _Don't give anything away, imbecile._

After this short encounter, Erwin launched into a soliloquy about the importance of finding a good spouse of royal bloodline to rule with. Armin picked at his food, not hungry anymore. Armin wished Christa hadn't declined the throne. He had no interest in ruling, but he had second option. Near the end of his speech, a loud clatter from the doorway startled the three of them. Erwin stood abruptly, tensing, but Bertholdt and Annie opened the doors from their outside posts to let in two knights, both weary and out of breath. They were holding each other up as if each were boulders and they were drowning. The man's abdomen dripped blood, spattering down like raindrops. He turned to Erwin, who had yet to speak.

“Father—”

“Bertholdt, please let go of him,” Erwin interrupted.

Armin realized that Bertholdt was trying to help the tall, broad, blond knight, who was almost doubled over from his injury. His fingers fluttered around him, and his face was unnaturally pale. It was the closest Armin had ever seen Bertholdt to upset or even frantic. He stopped upon hearing the command, straightened up, and reluctantly joined Annie at his post. The blond man he'd been trying to help shot a glance back at him before addressing Erwin.

“My Lord, the Titan kingdom attacked us on our recon mission around the grounds. There are two others in the infirmary already and one is missing, kidnapped we think.” His words were low and painful.

“Who is injured?” Erwin asked formally.

“Mina Carolina and Thomas Wagner.”

“Who was taken?”

“Eren Jaeger,” he answered, almost imperceptibly.

At this, Mikasa collapsed further onto the blond man. She seemed to be weighed down at the thought, as if Eren were the only person to ever support her. Stomach clenching, Armin knew that was true. The three of them had grown up together, and he felt utterly guilty to be constantly protected while his friends risked their lives every day. Armin tried to remember his face, his smile, Mikasa's smile—breathe in, breathe out—but he couldn't remember how to think.

Mikasa and the blond man had disappeared—when did that happen? Erwin was already talking strategy—when did Levi enter the room? For being such a stoic knight, he was awfully pale. You'd think he'd be tanner seeing as he was in the sun so often. He looked sick. Maybe he should get that checked out. He was getting fuzzy. That couldn't be normal. Armin clasped his hands over his ears. Who was yelling so loud? They really ought to stop; yelling induces migraines. Whoever it was, they were making his dad awfully upset. The smell of the blond man's blood drip-dripping onto the floor, washing over him in waves, pulling him away from the...grand hall? Someone was moving him away from the grand hall.

It suddenly occurred to Armin that he might have been the one yelling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of my chapters are fairly short, but it should add up pretty well at the end. I have no self-control, so I added the next part.


	3. Chapter 3

Armin woke in his own bed, but with Christa snuggled up next to him. It was not an uncommon sight, especially when someone in the kingdom was lost to the Titans. The Titan kingdom had been their enemy long before Erwin was king. Their subjects were vile and horrific in their habits, and they never attempted communication or responded to anything. Located nearly forty miles north, the Titans often attempted illegal acts in times of peace. The Titans originated from a native tribe that practiced spiritual dances and ceremonies with the waxing and waning of the moon.

Their most vulgar attribute (simply put) was cannibalism. Their cannibalistic ceremonies were the most sacred, but no other surrounding kingdoms understood why they chose to. The person selected to be sacrificed was still alive when the eating commenced. If he listened closely, Armin thought he could sometimes hear screams in the wind.

As Armin became fully awake, his stomach wretched inside of him, seeming to ask permission to leave his body in the most excruciating way possible. Eren Jaeger was taken by the Titans while only on a recon mission—meaning he had little means of defense with him. Armin counted to ten and breathed slowly. Christa rustled beside him. 

"Five more minutes,” she mumbled. She didn't even wake; she just continued lightly snoring away.

Armin gazed at his sister curiously. How could he be related to someone so confident when he was so passive, so anxious about even doing the simplest tasks? He hated being a prince; talking to people as if he were better than them made him uncomfortable. He wished the rules allowed him to deny the throne even after his sister did. He didn't know how to run their kingdom, no matter how small their area was. Christa had always known what to do or what to say, and she could execute it well.

Even with smaller things, Christa had always been more confident. Where Armin only watched Eren, his childhood friend and loyal subject, Christa took the initiative to see Ymir, the stable hand. Armin could never be jealous of his sister because he couldn't imagine what it would be like to do things without thinking, or more likely worrying, about them first. It didn't seem quite possible.

In his reverie, Armin suddenly realized what he could do.

“Find him,” he whispered through his fingers.

If he could find Eren himself, he would be saving his friend, subject, and proving that he wasn't as weak as everyone thought he was.

Armin kissed his sister's forehead lightly and tucked the blankets around her in a nest. He slipped out of the room, knowing he would have a few hours until Bertholdt would search for him; the sun was barely up. He let himself into the grandiose library and tip-toed straight back to the last shelves. There were no truly restricted books, but a sheet of glass held these books back from reach, and Erwin had dropped heavy hints about how some knowledge was not worth knowing. There were some books even further back that had locks on the bookcases, but Armin had made copies of the keys to almost everything in the castle.

Armin gently slid open the glass covering and dug through the books that had perhaps never been touched. They were all coated with a thick layer of dust. Some were neat and tidy on the shelves, and to the left of the shelf, some books sat in towering stacks. Armin swore he saw a book move from where it originally had been placed, as if it were alive. Armin only knew where to look for the books because in a fit of rebellion when he was nine years old, he told his father he was running away and proceeded to sleep in the library for several days with Bertholdt and took inventory of everything in there. This was the general area of sociology and human studies. He pulled out any book that could be remotely useful and placed them in a stack safely out of sight of the door. He winced when a tower of books to his right came crashing down as he clumsily reached for one. Nobody came rushing into the library, so he took as a good omen. He separated the books he had chosen into what would be most useful and started poring over them.

Some of the books had been handwritten by people who had come in contact with the Titans. Some were professionally made by scientists and theorists and sociologists. The most interesting one, Armin thought, was one written by someone who had been born into the Titan religion and ran away to become part of the Kingdom of Maria, a good fifty miles to the west of them.

At some point, past when the sun had come up, Christa shuffled in.

“It's barely dawn,” she yawned, lying down next to her brother, her head in his lap. She scrunched her nose and gently pushed some books out of her way with one finger. He took only slight notice; he'd been reading for quite some time. After Christa had dozed off again, he suddenly took notice of what she said.

“Christa!” he hissed, trying to whisper.

“Mmm, what?”

“I need you to do me a favor. Ask Ymir to get a horse ready for me.”

“What for?” she asked cautiously, sitting up.

“You hate riding horses.”

“Please, you know you owe me.”

“Fine.” She stood. “You should clean up first. Where are you going?”

Armin hastily gathered his books and shoved them back onto the shelves, not conspicuously at all. “Nowhere, just out for a ride. I told Bertholdt that I'd stop moping around in my room all day,” he lied smoothly.

Armin mentally winced. He was a very talented liar, but his sister usually could see right through them. His guilt gnawed at him for days after he lied. Christa seemed to be completely awake now. She glanced over some of the titles that he hadn't picked up and blinked several times.

“Armin,” she said. “You shouldn't do anything too rash—”

“I'm not,” he insisted.

“—Levi and his squad are searching for him today as well,” she continued over his comment. “So, if you were to, oh, say, come across a certain area while on your completely non-suspicious horse ride and Levi is there, you will undoubtedly never see the light of day again if Father finds out,” she finished, maintaining eye contact.

Armin hugged his sister fiercely, eternally grateful for her warning.

“I'll be careful,” he promised quietly. He didn't say, “I promise to come back alive,” because that would have been to much for him to bear.

“You better be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have absolutely no self-control. I might get the whole thing posted within a week!


	4. Chapter 4

Out of his father's prying eyes, Armin was saddled to his horse, ready to go. Ymir gave him a neutral look as she checked the bridle. Christa leaned on her toes and whispered that she'd cover for him when Bertholdt asked. He thanked her profusely and was set on his way.

As he rode, he was totally alert to his surroundings and did not want to be caught off-guard. He was fair with a sword, but excelled more in academics. He had an uneasy feeling that he would not be able to talk his way out of this situation.

He touched the simple chain around his neck; the heavy pendant hanging from it was comforting. It wore the symbol of the knights' squad, a pair of crossed wings in the center.

~

The night was warm and clear. Every star was bright in its place in the sky. Armin was nine, so Eren was ten. Eren had sneaked into the library to spend time with Armin, who decided to sleep there for a week. They had lain, sides touching, Armin's head resting on Eren's chest, underneath the huge skylight in the library. From the higher-level education the castle subjects received, Armin could recite the constellations, so he did. He wanted to impress his best friend. Eren loved hearing his friend talk; Armin always sounded to fascinated. Eren didn't have the heart to tell him that he already knew the constellations. He pressed a necklace into Armin's hand. Armin asked what it was for.

“So you don't forget me.”  _I'll never forget you, even without a picture._

“I won't forget; you'll just be a knight.” _My knight in shining armor._

“I'll miss you.” _I love you._

“You'll be right outside the castle.” _I never want to be far from you._

“Yeah, I know.” _Me either._

~

Armin pushed the memory from his mind and focused on the task at hand. He knew the history of the Titans and figured he could communicate with them fairly effectively if they gave him a chance to. Their culture was rich, but foreign to him.

Based on an ancient religion, they worshiped humanity to an extreme point. They felt that humans were the highest being, aside from their deity, a massive humanoid figure, called the “Titan.” The Titan could be created by combining people who had great qualities in them, such as kindness, athleticism, and intelligence, among others. While reading, Armin realized that his kingdom had been entirely misinterpreting their relationship with the Titans. The Titans thought they were allies. They did not pick random people from their kingdom just to make them upset; they picked people with outstanding qualities because they thought their kingdom produced especially talented people.

The reason that Erwin could not communicate with these people was because they spoke a tribal language, dating back to the origin of the religion. Armin figured it was some sort of mix of English, German, and Latin. Armin did not waste time trying to translate everything, but he had a bit of parchment with him that had the necessities written out on it.

Armin tried to focus on finding the main area, but it was always possible he would find other larger sections of the kingdom nearby. Although their kingdom spanned forty miles in the direction, the most northern twenty miles was dense forest. The Titans had been known to take refuge in the tree tops, waiting to find people they deemed good enough.

Armin swallowed. That was probably where Eren was taken earlier. The Titans had not been known to take more than one person at a time, and now Armin had a reason why. Armin was glad that Eren had not been taken for a pointless reason, but he wanted him back, whether or not he was some sort of sacrifice for the Titans.

“I will not panic,” he whispered firmly. He wanted to make it there in one piece; he needed all of his wits to get through this.

“Do you want to hear a story, Miss Nanaba?” he asked the horse. She snorted softly. Taking that as agreement, he began.

“Once upon a time,” he started, but at that point he had bitten his tongue, so he completed the rest of his story in his head.

Once upon a time, there was a boy named Eren. He was beautiful, as all children should be. He went about his life with a beautiful sister and family. One day, a rather small, pale boy sat in the shade under the burning sun. He had his nose buried in a book, trying to use his hair to block the sun from his face in a vain attempt stop the sun from burning him. His long blond hair intrigued Eren, so he sat next to the boy, or, at least, that was what Eren had told him. The two were quiet, the boy with his book and Eren staring at the boy, until Eren spoke up.

“My name is Eren Jaeger. I'm five. I think you're pretty.”

“I'm Armin and I'm four.”

They were inseparable after that day. Armin couldn't remember much before Eren; he had just always been there. Armin stopped thinking about the story and simply reminisced in his thoughts, eyes traveling over the horizon.

He, Eren, and Mikasa had all completed each other in a sort of triangle. Mikasa kept Eren grounded when he became angry; Eren broke Armin out of his shell; and Armin—well, Armin wasn't sure how he fit in there. He just knew he loved Mikasa and Eren completely. Christa even pointed it out one day in front of everyone. Erwin had laughed it off, but Mikasa had smiled and Eren had blushed.

Ever since then, Eren and Armin knew they loved each other, just a little differently than they loved Mikasa, but it felt too taboo to cross the line of friendship. Life expectancy was not very high for the knights of the castle, and Eren was dead set on becoming a knight. Mikasa would follow Eren to the ends of the earth, and Armin suspected that she became a knight more to watch out for Eren than a riveting desire to be a knight. Mikasa had been rescued from a human trafficking group by Eren's family, and Mikasa had become part of their family because she had nowhere else to go.

Armin all of a sudden heard voices ahead of him and slowed his horse to a trot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe this will be the last update of the day. Who knows? Obviously not me.


	5. Chapter 5

“We need to split into separate groups.”

Head Knight Levi—Armin went into the trees and dismounted his horse, walking as close to them as he dared. The knights made Armin feel very small as he gazed up to their muscled physiques atop gorgeous horses. He saw Bertholdt shift uncomfortably on his horse; he wasn't used to being around the knights.

“...and Eren and Armin should be with us by nightfall.”

Armin's stomach twisted and his face fell. He hadn't thought anybody would've noticed this early in the morning. His heart pounded as he look up—the sun was high in the middle of the sky. How long had he been out there? He didn't want Bertholdt to be worried about him. The older man's forehead creased with concern, in a seemingly endless frown. He had been like an older brother to Armin his whole life. Bertholdt had been taking care of him as long as he could remember. He was only eleven years older than Armin, so by the time Armin was allowed out of the nurseries, Bertholdt was able to learn how to help care for him. Annie and Bertholdt were bodyguards, yes, but they also were basically Christa and Armin's nannies. Armin's family consisted of many of the castle subjects, with only his father and sister being biologically related to him.

Armin strained to hear Levi speak, but his voice was low and the wind was quickening. He only caught bits of sentences. He watched Mikasa grip her reins dangerously tight. All evidence of her tears was gone and in its place was a stony look that made Armin desperately want to see any other type of expression on her face, anything but that.

He couldn't bear to look at Bertholdt.

Levi's expression was one Armin could not identify. He did not look as upset as earlier, but almost disappointed at the day's events, as if Eren's kidnapping were a mere inconvenience to him. Armin felt strangely angry at him and wanted to go talk some sense into him. He jerked back and realized that he had been staring at them for quite some time. He backed away slowly, hoping he hadn't brought any attention to himself, but he saw Bertholdt staring at him, face unreadable. Armin opened his mouth so say something, but words failed him, and it was better not to attract the attention of the others.

 _Go home_ , Bertholdt mouthed at him.

Armin shook his head resolutely.

Bertholdt's jaw tightened and he looked over at Levi, as if about to reveal where Armin was.

And that he did.

Armin could see his clipped tones just by reading his lips. Mikasa turned her head sharply to the side, looking for Armin in the trees. He had frozen; he didn't know what to do, and running away seemed childish. He thought of his mantra from earlier bitterly; _I will not panic_.

Levi had dismounted his horse and walked right up to Armin. He was extremely intimidating for being a few inches shorter than Armin himself. Armin found himself backed up against a tree. Levi was right up in his face, and all of the other members of his squad were grouped behind him. Only Bertholdt sat still on his horse, his face a mask of disappointment.

“Armin,” Levi cut in sharply.

He flinched and answered meekly, “Yes, sir?”

“You may either ride home _with an escort_ ,” he emphasized, “or you may join us. You will not go off by yourself on any circumstances.”

Relieved, Armin shook his head, “No, I mean, yes, I won't, er—I will, I—”

“ _Armin_.”

“I'll join you. Sir,” he added.

“Go get your horse. Do not think that this is the end of this.”

He marched back to his horse and shouted at the squad still standing on the ground.

“Get back on your horses; we don't have all day!”

They all scurried to their spots as Armin mounted his horse again and trotted up next to the squad. His face was brick-red with shame.

Everyone looked at him with either curiosity or mild irritation, aside from Bertholdt, who refused to look at him. Armin thought he might throw up.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is very fun to write, and feedback is appreciated! Shout out to Katie, who deals with all of my annoying messages every time I upload a new chapter.


	6. Chapter 6

Levi split the makeshift squad into two groups. Armin was with Levi, Petra Ral, and Thomas Wagner, who had been apparently released from the hospital earlier that morning, leaving Mikasa, Bertholdt, and the blond-haired broad man from the previous day in the other group. Armin rode next to Petra, who made him feel the least guilty. He supposed Levi would've run him over if he had tried to ride by him, and Thomas threw him encouraging looks, but that made Armin feel even more guilty. Petra was coolly level-headed about the situation and asked few questions.

“When did you leave?”

“Just after dawn,” he replied nervously.

“I won't say don't worry about anything, but it certainly won't do you any good right now.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

Petra was quiet after that. Hoping to be out of earshot of Levi, she did murmur that Bertholdt was simply worried and would not stay upset forever.

Armin only focused on not being a burden to his team. They reached a suitable place for stopping in dense thicket a few hours later. Mikasa doled out rations of bread, and they ate in vaguely awkward silence. Armin spoke up weakly before they started packing up again.

“I, uh, did some research?”

Mikasa looked over sharply. “About what?”

“The Titans?”

“Armin, you know that information is off-limits,” started Mikasa.

“But,” he continued, “it will help us. If you just let me—”

“Armin,” Bertholdt cut in quietly.

He swallowed harshly and hung his head, frustrated. If he knew things they didn't, wouldn't it make sense for him to let them know beforehand? He clenched his teeth and headed to his horse. He mounted and slowly loosened his jaw as to not injure himself while riding the horse. He drummed on his pant leg with his fingers, not loud enough to hear and in no particular pattern.

“It's okay,” Eren consoled him, “to be nervous sometimes.”

Armin shook his head, as if to clear his mind. Eren wasn't there; this wasn't his childhood anymore. Armin suddenly wished he had chosen to go home. Don't be such a coward! It felt as though his mind were being torn in two—he was useless to the squad, but he had to find Eren—he was cowardly, but he knew things they didn't—he had no idea what he was doing, but he loved—

“Let's move!”

They trudged forward, quickly but seeming weighed down, splitting up into their respectful groups again. Nobody ever came back from the Titans alive, not if they had been chosen—Petra had reminded him of that, not wanted him to be crushed if the mission was not successful. Armin grimaced; Eren's parents had come back, but not alive. The Titans had taken his mother and father, but sent back his father's arm. Erwin had never decided whether the gesture was an apology for a mistake or a warning for more to come. His stomach flipped yet again—it was a wonder he hadn't vomited yet—as he thought of the worry he must be causing his father. He could just see the creases in his forehead getting deeper, canyons full of worry and sleeplessness, and his brow furrowing until his face was permanently unsettled.

Surely Christa would tell him what happened and that he was okay...except, Christa didn't know that for sure. What an idiot you've been. He was too wrapped up in his selfish need to go prove himself, he didn't think of his family. What had he proven so far? All he had managed to do was get caught by the only people in the woods. Were they the only people? The hair on the back of his neck stood up and he rolled his shoulders, resisting the urge to look over his shoulders. The lurking fear that they were being followed at this very moment was a very real threat. Having the squad was comforting, but he was sick and tired of having to be saved all the time.

“You might need to work on that, then,” Petra called over.

Armin groaned. He really needed to work on his brain-to-mouth filter as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to Katie for listening to me flip out about this, and a huge shout out to you guys reading this. Thank you!!


	7. Chapter 7

They reached an area of denser trees when Levi signaled for them to dismount and continue on foot. After a few paces, he stilled entirely, and everyone else followed suit. Faint rustling could be heard above them; Armin wasn't sure if it was the other group or the Titans. Either way, his heart pounded in his chest, and he was certain that it was audible. The worst scenarios pervaded his thoughts, and he couldn't rid himself of the images of Mikasa being taken, or Bertholdt, or maybe they would eat Head Knight Levi right in front of them, or maybe they'd tear Petra limb from limb—

_Shut up._

Armin chastised himself and concentrated as hard as he could on Levi's movements. Just behind Thomas, what appeared to be a large mass of flesh fell from a tree, but was really an adult unclothed Titan. The Titan made a garbled sound that Armin could not understand and shoved Thomas to the ground, heading straight for Levi.

“Protect the prince at all costs!” Thomas shouted before flicking a hand knife at the Titan from the ground.

 _No, no, he's not going after me, idiot!_ “He's going for Levi!” Armin yelled.

He unsheathed his sword, as did Petra, but Levi was already pirouetting away from the Titan, his feet moving too fast for Armin to see, and his blade flashed in the dim light filtering through the canopies. The Titan fell to his knees; a deep cut crossed the back of his neck, pouring blood. Levi disgustedly touched him with his boots, tipping him over on his side. He was dead before he hit the ground.

“He?” Petra asked, sheathing her sword.

“Yes?” Armin asked, puzzled.

“It is not a he,” Levi spat. “It is a thing, a vile beast that feeds on humans.”

Armin knew better than to correct him.

He was still unsettled by Thomas' remark. Levi was much more important to save than he was, especially since Armin was not the target in the first place. He took a moment to appreciate the training Levi must have done to become so skilled. He was small and agile, and anger seemed to pour out of him, directed solely at the Titans. The anger balanced him much like a dancer was tethered to the idea of grace, tranquility, and preciseness.

They did not mount their horses; if a Titan was killed in a certain area, others would never follow suit. They waited for the other group to join them.

Mikasa came at the lead, followed by Bertholdt and the blond man.

“What happened?” she asked.

“Titan is dead, nobody injured,” Thomas said, brushing the dirt from him.

“He was targeting Levi,” Armin blurted.

Everyone turned to stare blankly.

“Well,” he continued, “if we know that he targeted Levi out of the rest of us, we know what will happen if another one comes.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” the blond-haired man said. “Titans do not target. They don't comprehend things like we do. Their attacks are vicious and random. It will not correlate to anything.”

Armin fumed silently. He wanted so badly to explain to them what the Titans did, why they did it, but nobody would listen to him. His face turned pink and his fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. He hadn't felt this upset in ages.

“Let's move,” Levi ordered quietly.

He turned to the direction of his horse, and something on his person caught on a tree branch. He floundered for a mere half second before he was untangled and a thin chain fell to the ground. The chain was snapped and the opening square locket had popped open. He snatched it up quickly, but not before Armin had seen a slanted handwriting crawling across a small piece of parchment. He could not read it in time, but had a feeling this was not something Levi ever planned for people to see and definitely should not be brought up in the future. Levi looked paler for a moment, clutching the object in his small hand, before tucking it into his clothing.

He looked up angrily.

“What are you all staring at?” he barked. “Go!”

Armin scurried away, not wanting to be a part of that mess. The others followed suit.

“We should find it soon,” he added halfheartedly.

They rode in tense silence before coming upon a clearing in the trees. Armin squinted in the low light and saw that the clearing led to another smaller one, which opened up back behind it again. A few yards away small huts were lined up in perfect circles around a larger one. A bonfire sat outside of it, and a circle of what appeared to be large headstones around it.

“This is too small,” Petra whispered. “This is one of the smaller areas of their kingdom.”

They rode their horses back into the trees and returned on foot. The sun was almost sunk into the earth, signaling twenty-four hours since any contact with Eren. They toed around the outskirts of the area as silently as possible. Mikasa, Reiner, and Bertholdt had made their way to the other side of the camp by horse and were doing the same thing, paralleled. Levi motioned for them to stay still and trekked to the side of the larger hut, pressing his ear against it. Armin desperately wanted to join, but resisted. He darted back to them.

“He is in there. They're preparing some sort of ceremony, and there's at least ten in there. If we go in and start killing them, it will attract the others in the community,” he whispered.

“Causing a full scale war,” Petra finished for him. Thomas nodded grimly.

Armin spoke quietly. “I can talk to them.”

“What?”

“I told you, I did my research. I don't have time to explain now. If we get the others back here, I can communicate with them and you can be backup.”

Levi did not look pleased at being called backup. “Why should we trust you?”

“I don't know,” he admitted softly. “But I know I have to do this.”

Levi considered for a moment and then nodded his assent. “Don't be stupid.”

“I promise,” Armin breathed.

They all trod quietly to the opening of the hut, flattening themselves against it whenever they heard any noise.

Armin reached the entrance, looked at Levi for permission, and inhaled sharply. He turned into the entrance, and his eyes locked onto a shape in the center that was looking back, straight at him.

“Armin?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finals are tomorrow. Whoops.


	8. Chapter 8

Back at the castle, Christa sat unusually still in her chair in the grand hall. Erwin paced back and forth in front of his chair, speaking softly under his breath at random speeds. With a pained expression, he looked back at his daughter.

“Why did you let him go?”

Christa’s voice was low and embarrassed. “I didn’t think he’d go through with it.”

Erwin sighed and rubbed his temples. “I need to think. Just—” He didn’t finish.

Christa stood, and albeit being a little wobbly, made her way quickly to the infirmary. She stopped in front of the bed of Mina Carolina, who had her eyes half-open and looked considerably healthier than the previous day. Christa passed by her and turned around, stomach turning at the scent of sterile sickness. She walked outside and headed straight to the stables to clear her mind. Ymir was brushing the coat of a gleaming golden mare, methodically working through the hair stroke by stroke. Ymir turned at the sound of her entrance and dropped the brush upon seeing her distressed expression. She brushed the hair from her clothes and opened her arms to embrace her. Christa buried her face in Ymir’s chest, inhaling the comforting scent of her, relishing in the warmth.

“I messed up,” she whispered.

“I know, kiddo,” Ymir said softly, stroking her hair.

They stood together like that for a while, Christa slowly relaxing, and Ymir murmuring in her ear. Her hand was slung around Christa’s waist, steadying her.

After several minutes of comforting, Ymir said, “Sorry to interrupt, but there is a pile of shit to my left that does not smell pleasant in any way.”

Christa giggled and stepped away. Ymir paused for a second before reaching down and scooping her up into her arms, causing her to squeal.

“C’mon, princess,” she said, holding Christa like a child. “We’re going on a trip.”

Christa rolled her eyes, feeling slightly okay again. Ymir pushed her up onto a horse and checked the parts to the saddle before mounting her own. They rode in almost comfortable silence out of the stables and away from the castle. They found themselves greeted only by dense trees and lush land. Christa slowed her horse and looked out at the land.

“Armin always wanted to go see the ocean,” she said softly. They were too far inland to see any water without decent travel.

Ymir did not respond.

“If you stay so gloomy, you won't be able to help anyone find him,” she said after a while, bordering on vaguely irate.

Christa looked over at her, scowling. “I can't help it. What do you know anyway?”

“I meant,” she tried to explain, “I meant that if you sit and worry about him, he won't come back, and there's nothing you can do right this second, and it's only hurting yourself and other people when you are this upset.”

Christa swallowed. She turned on her horse slightly. She glanced back over, as if waiting to be reprimanded again.

“Race ya?” Ymir grinned halfheartedly.

“You're on.” Christa nodded.

They rode through the trees, past the worries left behind at the castle. With every few yards forward, Ymir felt herself getting caught up in it; she felt slightly exhilarated, but knew she would let Christa win. Under normal circumstances, that would never happen, and Christa would be in for the ride of her life. Christa must have known that Ymir would try to pull something like that, so she looked back at her, winked, and sped through, winding around a tree dangerously close. Ymir grinned, brighter this time, and caught up with her.

“Gonna fight dirty?” Ymir sneered.

“You know it—shit—” Christa spat out blood; she had bitten her tongue while talking.

Ymir rolled her eyes. Some people never learn.

Ymir slowed at the banks of a small creek near a clearing in the woods. She dismounted and allowed her horse to lap at the cool water. She stood, waiting for Christa, hands on her hips like the self-righteous jockey she was. Christa followed suit, dismounting and joining her.

“So, that's what? About infinity to none?” Ymir smirked.

Christa elbowed her and stuck out her tongue. “Jerk.”

“Punk.” She smiled back.

The sun was beginning to sink in the sky, casting a soft light over them. It reflected off the water in ripples of color, begging to be noticed. A rabbit bounced through the long grass, completely ignoring the sight before her. The horses dipped gracefully into the water, disrupting its calm. Nature at its best. Christa approached Ymir and reached up to pull her down by the lapels of her jacket. Ymir bent down to accommodate her and brushed Christa's forehead with her lips.

“Hi,” Christa breathed.

“Hi,” Ymir echoed before dipping lower to kiss her.

Christa felt relief wash over her in great waves of tranquility, slowing her heartbeat and relaxing her muscles. She reciprocated and took no haste in this. She desperately wanted to remember this moment, this little separate peace from everything else going on. The horses and animals had stilled and the only sound to be heard was a gentle breeze brushing over the lush grass. She moved back, her forehead against Ymir's, and brought one hand up to gently drag her finger across Ymir's lower lip. Ymir closed her eyes and tried to soak up the tender feeling for days where everything went wrong.

They stood, quietly embracing, until Ymir murmured lightly, “He'll be okay.”

Christa nodded imperceptibly and turned to watch the sunset. If the scenery had been pretty earlier, it was nothing compared to this. Splashes of color seemed to decorate the air itself, and the wind slept for the evening. The horses grazed leisurely on tufts of grass.

 

"Isn't it so beautiful?" Christa whispered.

"Yeah," Ymir agreed, looking at Christa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super cheesy chapter for a little break from finals :)


	9. Chapter 9

“Armin?”

It took all of Armin's self-control not to run towards him and ruin his own plan. Something made him stop, made his stomach jolt. All of the Titans were focused on Eren, and they took no notice of him entering, or of Eren's recognition. They sat and stood in circles around him, some frail and thin, some healthy and rotund, and some hunched over as if in pain. The Titans were regular humans, but their limbs were over-large and bulky, with rounded joints that looked as if they would creak like an old wooden attic door, if not snap in two from any usage. Armin hesitantly made his way forward, feeling Levi's eyes on him from behind. The Titans did not acknowledge his presence. He was a few feet from Eren, having weaved his way through the crowds of Titans. He shakily reached one hand forward towards Eren, whose eyes went wide with panic.

“Armin, no, don't touch—”

Armin yanked his arm back to his body, but the Titans all stood and finally stared at him, making low, guttural noises. If Armin hadn't been terrified and about to piss himself, he would have been curious enough to translate what they said. They did not make any move to harm him. He did think it was odd that they had Eren out in the open, nothing to stop anyone from taking him, other than the Titans themselves. Eren had made no move forward at all. Armin's eyes traveled down to the floor underneath Eren's feet—it had painted symbols and lettering in rows. Armin tried to memorize the shapes so he could figure it out later, but he first had to get Eren. He stepped forward once, testing the water. The Titans kept speaking, but still did not move. Perhaps it wasn't okay for them to touch the sacrifice? Armin was dubious, but stepped forward still until he was inches from Eren. He reached out to touch Eren, and the Titans seemed just on the edge of moving when Levi darted in.

“Go!”

Armin grabbed Eren rather ungracefully by the arm, and Levi masterfully started cutting down the vines in his path, followed by the rest of the squad, keeping the doorway open. The noises increased in volume and tempo, and Armin wished he could understand them. He pulled Eren along, and then realized he was the one being pulled along; Eren was much quicker than he.

They were just at the doorway when a rotund Titan who appeared to be female grabbed Armin by his free arm, toppling him backwards. He cried out, letting go of Eren, and tried to push the Titan off of him in vain. His arm scraped against the ground, but he hardly noticed. The Titan was scrambling to push step over him, or—to his horrified realization—on him to get to Eren. A heavy foot pressed down on his chest as she propelled herself forward to get to Eren. He felt as though a one-legged pony were performing acrobatics across his lungs as he struggled for breath, sparks of pain lighting up across him. He pulled himself up with pure adrenaline, lunging at the Titan. He jumped up and wrapped his arms around the Titans neck, hoping to pull her down. She yelled an inhuman noise and jerked her shoulders, trying to rid herself the cumbersome weight. Armin swung his legs back and forth, kicking with all his might, and held on as tightly as he could.

He wondered if this was commonplace for a knight.

He noticed Eren had broken free and he almost smiled—until the Titan snapped her head back and bloodied his nose with a sickening sound. He let go, flailing, and fell onto something hard...and warm? He twisted himself to see the blond-haired man had caught him. The rest of the squad was making it to the doorway, Eren being herded out by Levi and Mikasa. He looked up at the man and opened his mouth to speak, but only coughed up blood. The sight of his own blood make his nauseous and dizzy, but he felt it would be rude to throw up in the man's arms. The man moved fairly quickly for having Armin in his arms, and they reached the trees again with only a few Titans following them.

Levi and Thomas stopped, shouting for the others to get to the horses, and Armin could only assume that they took care of the rest of the strays. Armin rode on the horse with his rescuer, and Eren with Mikasa, who spoke in a low quick voice to him. Eren looked dazed, but there were no visible signs of injury. Armin hazily wondered what would become of the extra horse. Christa and Ymir would definitely not be pleased.

The sun was gone, sunk to the other side of the earth, and Armin stopped straining his eyes to see. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the choppy movements of the horse. That man was awfully nice, but it would be even nicer if he would just stop trying to talk to him and let him sleep. His head buzzed like a kicked beehive. Lack of sleep would do that to you.

Armin cracked open one eye when he felt something warm seep out of his shirt. He looked down to see some awful smelling substance leak through. Maybe he had been painting a sunset. It was a pretty color of red for smelling so bad. _The paint was probably oil based,_ he thought.

He wondered if Eren ever got better at drawing. When they were young, he had attempted to draw a horse in the stable, but it turned out like a two-headed dog, one head on both ends.

Armin giggled and closed his eyes again. It sure was nice spending time with Eren.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One day of school left!!!


	10. Chapter 10

Armin woke in the infirmary, a day and a half later. He used what little strength he had to force open his heavy eyes. His bedside was empty, save for Christa. She was asleep, sprawled across the armchair in the corner. His chest felt constricted with guilt for worrying his sister. He tried to turn his body and groaned. The slight noise woke Christa, which was unusual; generally, she slept as if she'd never slept before and never would get to sleep again. She sat up, stretching, and looked over at him.

“Hurts?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Good.”

Armin furrowed his brow.

“You had us all worried sick! You're an idiot; you got yourself hurt, just imagine what could've happened if you hadn't found Levi—”

“I told you,” he rasped, throat dry.

“I knew where you were going, but I didn't know what was going on! I just...” She stopped and looked at him sadly. “I was really worried. I didn't want you to be hurt. I love you.”

“Love you, too,” he responded, which caused a round of painful coughing.

Christa stepped up next to him and held the cup of water from the bedside to his lips. She poured a few sips into his mouth and asked,

“Better?”

“Thanks, yeah.”

The blond-haired man poked his head in the door. Armin struggled to sit up, wanting to thank him and show him respect, but a sharp stab at his ribs held him down.

“Lie down. Rest,” he said firmly.

“Thank you—for—” he breathed.

“I know, it's fine,” he cut him off. “Don't worry about it.”

“What's—your name?”

“Reiner,” he answered. “You have more visitors. I only wanted to leave you with a piece of advice.” Armin waited. “You can trust us. Don't think you have to do things by yourself.” With that, he stood and left, and in his place, Mikasa, Petra, and Thomas entered.

“You fool,” Mikasa said quietly. He knew she had forgiven him. But he wasn't sure if he had forgiven himself.

“Are the others...?” he asked.

“They're all fine,” Petra confirmed. “And here to see you.”

Thomas added, “We were told to bring Christa out so your father could speak to you.”

Christa kissed his forehead and wished him luck as she left the room with the trio. Erwin, and to his surprise, Levi entered the room.

“One fractured rib, a mild concussion, a broken nose, and innumerable bruises. Not to mention the state of the castle floor after you bled all over it,” Levi listed huffily.

“Levi,” Erwin reprimanded.

Levi sighed. “Don't be stupid again.”

Armin supposed it was the closest he was going to get to kindness from Levi.

“Armin,” Erwin said heavily, sitting next to him. “I understand why you left, but that was a very reckless thing you did. You worried the entire castle and almost got yourself killed. Not to mention being unconscious for days, meaning Christa and Eren were moping and inconsolable.”

Armin winced. “Father, I—”

“But, on the other hand, you also succeeded in your mission, going against every rule the squad has. I don't know whether to punish you or commend you.” He halted. Armin noticed the tired look in his eyes and wondered if his father had slept at all.

“Father. Go sleep. I'm okay, I promise.”

Erwin looked surprised, but did not argue. “You never put yourself first, Armin. That could cause you some trouble one day.” He leaned over and awkwardly hugged his son with one arm. “Rest.”

“Love you, dad.”

Erwin closed his eyed, breathed slowly, and left the room, Levi at his side.

Armin closed his eyes, the center of his face throbbing from his broken nose, and tried to tune out the buzzing noises of the infirmary. He reached over to his bedside table and fumbled for the bottle of painkillers. He pinched two out and swallowed them with the water Christa had fed him earlier. He hoped they would kick in soon and pulled the sheets up to cover his face.

 

Mikasa eventually joined Armin and Eren under the tree and introduced herself. Armin liked having friends that weren't paid to be his friends and wanted to soak up every minute he spent with them.

“We'll be best friends forever!” Eren proclaimed.

“Yeah!” Mikasa agreed.

“Forever,” Armin echoed.

“I bet the inside of the castle is really cool,” Eren guessed.

“It's not that cool,” Armin disagreed. “Not as cool as your tree house.”

“Let's go to the tree house now!” Eren added.

The three of them marched toward a huge hollowed out tree in the back of Eren's house. Eren and Mikasa had broken some branches off so they could climb up to the hollow part and sit in it. The only issue was that one person could fit in there at a time. Mikasa often read in the hollow while Eren and Armin sat bare-foot on the branches, swinging their legs out. Other times, Eren napped while Mikasa and Armin spoke. Whenever Armin and Mikasa spoke, it was never about important topics, but at the end of every conversation, he felt like she had told him something important. It was a slow start to a lazy day; at dawn, the trio went to the tree to avoid doing chores. They were ranging between nine and twelve, so they weren't particularly worried about chores. Eren used a stick to draw shapes in the dirt in the hollow while Armin and Mikasa conversed.

“I think you ought to read it,” Mikasa was saying. “You'd enjoy it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really. It's about this girl and...are you really sure he's okay? He looks awfully pale—”

 

Armin gasped and opened his eyes. Eren and a nurse were standing over him; Eren's voice must have cut into his dream.

“Armin?” he asked softly. The nurse left.

“Eren,” he breathed. “You're okay.”

“More than I can say for you.” He pulled the chair right next to the bed. He sat and took Armin's hands in his.

“Your hands are so cold.” Eren frowned.

“Poor circulation,” Armin supplied.

Eren pressed Armin's fingertips to his lips and closed his eyes. Armin felt the urge to lean over and pull him in for a long overdue kiss, but that was not up for his hazy judgment to decide.

“You were really brave,” Eren whispered against his hand after a long moment.

Armin turned red. “I was not brave; I was rescued every time I tried to help.”

“That doesn't matter,” Eren said quickly, looking up. “You chose to go out and do those things and you didn't give up. That's brave. I'm a knight—I'm not supposed to need saving, I'm supposed to save people. But look at where I ended up. It's okay to be rescued sometimes.”

Armin's lip trembled. “I just wanted to find you—I wanted to show I wasn't weak like they thought, and I just—I—”

“Shh, it's okay, Armin,” Eren soothed. “Nobody else is hurt anymore. It's going to be fine, I won't let anything happen to you. I—”

He suddenly cut off and didn't finish his sentence. He stood up, letting go of Armin's hand, and bent over to brush Armin's hair out of his face.

“I have to go back and make a report to Levi, but I'll come find you after you're healed, okay?”

“Okay.”

Eren turned to leave, but suddenly Armin tugged on the back of his shirt. “Wait.” He turned.

“What is it?”

“I...never mind, it was nothing.”

“Okay. See you soon.”

After he left, Armin covered his face with his palms; he had almost said it, right then. He wasn't sure if he was disappointed that he backed out or relieved. He sighed and wondered how long fractured ribs took to heal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School is officially over and I don't know what to do with myself.


	11. Chapter 11

They kept Armin there for a few more days, and he was visited by Christa and Mikasa the most often. Eren, true to his word, did not come back, due to knight duties. On the third day, Reiner, to whom he was eternally grateful, came in, pulling along Bertholdt by his fingers. Armin's throat closed, realizing he had forgotten entirely about confronting Bertholdt. He looked up at him remorsefully and tried to apologize, but was cut off.

“I am not sorry for revealing you to Levi,” Bertholdt said severely. “I am not sorry for trying to help you. I am, however, sorry I did not explain this before.” He paused, searching for words. “I only wanted to see you safe. You must understand that is my job. More than that, you are my friend and prince. As disappointed I am in you, I am more relieved.”

It was one of the longest speeches Bertholdt had ever said. Armin's throat closed again, choked up with emotion, and he looked up at him again with wet eyes.

“I—I'm sorry, Bertholdt. I didn't mean to make you worry.”

He propped himself in an upright position and wiped at his eyes. Reiner silently handed Armin a box of tissues. He accepted it gratefully and placed it between his knees.

“I understand. Thank you for your apology, Armin. I'm glad you are getting well.” He bent forward and hugged Armin gently, avoiding the injury on his ribs. Armin was reached around him and hugged him back as tightly as he could without bringing tears to his eyes—well, tears of pain, anyway. They released each other, and Armin winced. Bertholdt kissed the top of his head and turned to leave with Reiner.

They paused, just at the doorway.

“Armin?” Reiner asked.

“Yes?”

He turned, leaving a puzzled Bertholdt at the door. He leaned in close and pressed something into Armin's hand.

“This fell off when I caught you. I thought you might like it back.” Armin didn't need to look to know what it was.

“Thank you,” he said. “For everything.”

They left and Armin traced over the pattern on the pendant. In hospital garb and without his necklace, he had felt vulnerable for the past few days. He slipped it on again, not caring if the nurses would disapprove. A sensation of security washed over him and he could sleep once again.

 

The nurse came in, not bothering to be quiet.

“Today is the day!” she chirped, preparing him for a bandage change.

Armin smiled in response. She unwrapped the old bandages from his middle gently, as if holding a newborn creature, and redressed and re-wrapped the new ones with equal care.

“So, are you excited to see your boyfriend?” she asked, working with quick fingers.

“W-what?” he spluttered.

“There was a dark-skinned, dark-haired boy—a rather cute one, mind you—who came to the hall every morning. It looked like he was going to come in, but then he changed his mind and turned around every time. You wouldn't happen to know who it was, would you?” she asked innocently, and Armin was reminded fiercely of his sister.

“Um, yeah, no—I,” he stuttered, at a loss for an appropriate response.

“I hope it works out for you,” she said kindly.

“Thank you.”

The two exchanged small talk for a while before she claimed he was free to go, as long as he didn't over-exert himself. He thanked her for her hard work, found out that her name was Nifa, and stood on wobbly legs. She produced a set of clothes for him and told him the bath was free to use.

“The clothes were dropped off yesterday,” she informed him. “I was given very strict instructions to keep them folded just as they were and to let you know that nothing in your chambers has been altered.”

 _Thank goodness for Bertholdt,_ Armin thought fondly. “Thank you.”

The water was scalding, just as he liked. It felt magical to wash after the few days' ordeal. Armin shuddered to think of what he smelled like when he had visitors. He placed the necklace carefully on the sink, right where he could see it. He lowered himself completely under the water, holding his breath. His hair flowed angelically, framing his face. He sat up again and scrubbed his body free of the mission. He splashed his face a couple times, wondering where Eren would be. As he glanced down at his pale torso, he remembered that Eren had a tattoo now, and probably didn't look the same as he remembered. He sighed, hating that it sounded dramatic and melancholy. Armin watched the steam make patterns above him, his body welcoming the heat that embraced him. He didn't want to leave the water, but it had turned into a rather unpleasant color. He stood, dripping, and stepped out, reaching for a towel. He dried himself off, watching the water swirl into the drain, a small whirlpool of his misadventures. He redressed, slipping the necklace right where it belonged, hanging next to his heart, and left the infirmary.

Armin wandered the halls; they seemed slightly foreign now, and he kept doing double-takes at random things that he'd never noticed before. He reached the grand hall entrance and saw that neither Bertholdt or Annie were there. It usually meant that the hall was empty, but he could hear voices from inside. He pressed his ear against the door and heard his father speaking. He wasn't yelling, but he didn't sound exactly happy. He couldn't make out the other voice. Armin moved on, realizing it was none of his business. Getting into other people's business hasn't gotten me anywhere, he thought. He made his way to his sister's chambers, but Annie informed him that she had gone on a picnic 'by herself.' Armin knew that she had gone out to see Ymir by the way she emphasized those two words. He thanked Annie and moved on to his bedroom, and he was starting to get a little winded from all the stairs. He paused for breath and readjusted his bandages under his clothes. He reached his room, finding Bertholdt standing in front of the doors.

“Password?” Bertholdt asked, almost playfully. Armin simply hugged him.

“Correct,” he responded softly. He looked down at Armin fondly, holding him around his waist. “Oh,” he said, almost as an afterthought. “You have a visitor waiting for you. Shall I leave for a while?”

Armin hugged him even more fiercely. “Thank you, Bertholdt, thank you for everything. Go spend time with Reiner,” he added, stepping away. He swore he saw Bertholdt blush.

He entered the room to find Eren standing, examining the drawing Armin had been working on several days ago. He looked up, grinned, and set the picture done, crossing the room to engulf Armin in embrace.

“Hey,” Eren whispered.

“Hi,” Armin giggled. His face turned pink.

“Are you feeling okay?'

“I am now,” he replied without thinking.

Eren flushed. “It's been a while since I've been up here.”

“Yeah. We've been busy.”

“I wish we weren't so busy that we can't see each other,” Eren said quietly.

“What do you mean?” Armin asked.

“I just.” He scratched his head. “I miss you. A lot. I think about you a lot. Do you still have the necklace?”

Armin pulled it from under his shirt. “Of course.”

“You still wear it,” he said in awe.

“Of course I do. You're my best friend.”

Eren turned in a full circle, as if trying to clear his mind or decide what to say. “Armin, can I—”

“What?”

“Can I kiss you?” he asked breathlessly.

Armin's heart stuttered. “Yes, of course, yes, please—”

Eren closed the space between them and tilted his head down, bright eyes searing into Armin's. When their lips met, it was not a practiced thing. Both were inexperienced, and it was more of a mashing of mouths than anything else. Eren's hands snaked around Armin's waist, and Armin's hands were thrown haphazardly around Eren's neck. They broke for air, and Eren had his forehead on Armin's, noses bumping.

“I missed being home.”

Armin didn't know what to say to that, but he felt the same. He leaned up on his toes and kissed him again, softer. Eren seemed to melt under his fingertips. Eren moved to slide his hands under Armin's shirt, but paused.

"Can I?"

"Yes." Armin flushed self-consciously, thinking about his pale skin compared to Eren's dark tones.

Eren gently slid his hands under the soft shirt, exploring the skin of his lower back and torso. Every touched felt electrifying to Armin, growing from his toes and working its way up. Armin, feeling confident, mirrored Eren's movements, pulling his arms down from his shoulders to his chest. Armin had Eren's shirt rucked up halfway, his palm over Eren's heartbeat, strong, steady, reassuring. Finally realizing that Eren was alive and well, he made a noise and kissed him with renewed vigor. 

"You're _here_ ," he murmured.

"Forever," Eren promised. 

Armin opened his eyes and looked at Eren's body. The bottom of his tattoo peeked out from under his shirt.

"I want to see it," Armin requested.

Eren snorted, covering his mouth with a hand.

Armin rolled his eyes, shoving at Eren. "Not  _that_. The tattoo, idiot." He sighed. "You're just as obnoxious as I imagined."

"You imagined me being obnoxious while we make out?" Eren asked as he pulled his shirt off in one fluid motion.

"I like to keep it realistic."

Eren stilled as Armin traced over the contours of his tattoo with his fingers. It was the same symbol on the pendant, the knights' symbol. His breath caught when Armin moved to the rest of his chest, exploring.

"You're so beautiful," Armin murmured.

Eren took Armin's hands in his, palms splayed over his chest. The sun was low on the horizon.

"You need to rest."

"Stay with me."

"Forever."

"I don't think Levi would like that," Armin laughed.

"You know what I mean, jerk." Eren rolled his eyes.

They undressed and didn't care how early it was. Eren pulled the blankets around Armin, enveloping them in warmth.

They faced each other, Eren's hands holding Armin to him, aligning bodies, and Armin had his head tucked against Eren's chest. They laid like that, whispering late into the night. Eren told stories about the friends he had made as a knight and Armin recounted his trip to rescue Eren.

 _It's very nice_ , Armin thought sleepily,  _to be home again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'll either wrap this up in a few chapters or maybe continue with just domesticity. Thoughts?


	12. Chapter 12

Armin woke in the middle of the night, and he wasn't sure why. He sat up, brushing his hair from his eyes and rolled his shoulders. A noise made him jump and strain to look around in the dark, and he suddenly realized the noise had come from Eren.

“Eren?” he whispered nervously.

There was no response. Eren turned over in his sleep, curling into a tight ball. He made a similar whining noise and curled the sheets in his fist.

“Eren,” he said insistently.

Eren flailed his limbs, tossing the blankets aside. “No, no—”

Armin reached over and grabbed Eren's arms, pinning him down. He stilled.

“Ar—Armin?” he gasped, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Armin let go of him and pulled him up, holding him. “It's okay, it was just a dream,” he murmured.

Eren let his head fall against Armin' chest and tried to steady his breathing.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered.

“Don't apologize. You were scared, it's okay,” he soothed, rubbing wide circles across his back.

Eren sighed and closed his eyes. “Ever since I got back.”

“It'll be over soon. You're home.”

“They're not even about that,” he continued. “They're about my parents.”

Armin stilled for a short moment. “I'm sorry.”

“It's not your fault,” Eren said quietly. “I just miss them. Sometimes I forget that they're gone and then I look around for them and remember. I think that's worse than knowing they're gone.”

Armin felt tears well up in his own eyes and pulled Eren closer. He peppered Eren's forehead with light pecks. “Is there anything I can do to help? I want to make you feel better. Please, Eren.”

“No, no, this is...this is good,” Eren said, suddenly surging forward to kiss Armin. When they made eye contact, Armin was drowning in the sadness that washed through Eren's expression. Armin kissed him back, making sure to be gentle in his hazy state, but Eren was clutching at him like he'd never felt another person's touch before. Armin, in his half-dressed state, pushed the covers off of both of them, suddenly feeling much too warm. The moon watched them from her place in the sky, casting light that didn't seem quite the right color. Eren had his fingers tangled in Armin's hair, pulling him closer.

 _We must be breaking some sort of physics law or something,_ Armin thought mildly. _The one about two objects occupying the same space._

He dismissed the thought and slid his hands up Eren's back, memorizing the taut muscles underneath his skin. Eren made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a groan before breaking for breath. He buried his face in the space between Armin's shoulder and neck.

“I'm a mess, aren't I?” he laughed weakly.

“We all are,” Armin answered, running his fingers through Eren's tangled hair, smoothing it out until it was knot-free and Eren was breathing steadily onto his shoulder.

Armin tilted his head down and kissed the top of Eren's head.

“I love you,” he whispered. Eren did not reply.

Armin laid them back down slowly, Eren instinctively wrapping his arms and legs around Armin. Armin stared at the harsh moon and did not fall asleep until he was certain Eren was okay.

The second night Eren stayed with him, Armin woke to an empty bed and bolted up in a sweat. Eren sat by the window, looking older than he should have in the starlight. “It's okay, I just can't sleep,” Eren assured him. “Come back to bed,” Armin said, worried. “It's okay,” Eren repeated, and stayed at the window. The third night, Armin did not sleep long. He stayed awake to watch Eren and rub his back soothingly whenever the demons appeared. The fourth night, Armin slept heavily and did not stir. The fifth night, Levi had had enough and made Eren go back to sleep in the knights' area. Armin could not sleep that night.

 

“I'm pretty sure that's not what it's supposed to look like,” Sasha said, frowning.

“Whatever, Sasha, I'm pretty sure Marco knows how to cook,” Jean said, reaching for a piece of bread.

Marco swatted at his hand. “Shoo, you know you're not supposed to be in here.”

Jean gave his best sour face to Marco. “Ugh. One piece isn't going to make a difference.”

“You're such a pig,” Marco sighed.

“Shut up!” Jean retorted indignantly.

“Make me!”

“Don't mind if I do—”

“Okay, boys, that is enough.” Sasha pushed herself between them, mildly disgusted.

Jean pouted at her, looking pathetic. “C'mon Sasha, you know you love us—”

“Not when you're making out in my kitchen!”

Marco blushed furiously and corrected, “You're assistant chef; it's _my_ kitchen—”

“Hey, now, I think I eat about 90% of what comes out of here, so it should be my kitchen,” Jean intervened.

“ _No_ ,” Sasha and Marco turned to him in unison.

“Out,” Marco said, pointing at the door with a spatula.

Jean stuck out his tongue. “Asshole.”

“I heard that!” Jean laughed his way out of the kitchen. In replacement, Hanji and Levi walked in.

“We'll need provisions for tomorrow's mission,” Levi said curtly.

“You got it, short stuff,” Sasha agreed.

“Sasha—” Marco said, horrified. Levi's eyes narrowed even further, but Hanji stepped in front of him, laughing nervously.

“So, about the stuff for my experiment?” she asked cheerfully.

“Sorry, Hanj, but we have to finish the stuff for tonight first,” Marco apologized.

“No worries, just get it to me afterwords! See ya!”

“Bye, Hanji,” Sasha replied. “Don't let him kill you,” she muttered under her breath. Levi turned back to her, about to start something, but Hanji pulled him out of the kitchen.

“Sasha, you moron,” Marco sighed.

“Learned from the best,” she said happily, poking him with a wooden spoon.

He laughed loudly and clapped his hand over his mouth quickly.

Sasha caught on, grinning mischievously. “Oh, are you ticklish?”

“No, Sasha, stay back—” He held a mixing bowl full of flour out in front of him as protection.

“Riiiight, Marco, that's what I'm gonna do when I find out you're a giggling little baby,” she rolled her eyes.

“Hey!”

She dropped her spoon, grabbed a fistful of flour, and tossed it over Marco's head, dusting his hair with white powder. He sneezed and set the bowl down.

“Sasha, that's such a waste—”

He was cut off by a round of sneeze-laughing when Sasha lunged forward and tickled his sides. They whipped around to face the doorway when he heard someone clear their throat.

Erwin stood in the doorway with a bemused look on his face. “Should I come back later?”

Sasha mock saluted him and said, “Sorry, sir, we were just—”

“Is there anything you need, your majesty?” Marco asked, hoping Sasha wouldn't cause any more damage. He shook his fingers through his hair, hoping to get rid of the flour. All he succeeded in doing was spreading it further into his scalp.

“I wanted to check that everything was ready for tonight,” he said.

“Yes, sir, everything is right on schedule. Everything should go perfectly,” Marco assured him.

“Thank you, Mr. Bodt,” he said formally. He turned to leave and prepare everything for the rest of the celebration.

The entire castle was working, either cleaning or cooking or finding perfectly fitting outfits for the events taking place. Jean, a squire, was with the knights. They were in the grand hall, setting table places for all of the esteemed castle subjects and the head table. The rest of the subjects were to sit at the other tables, lined up next to the head table, filling up the entire hall. Amicable chatter buzzed throughout the air, keeping a pleasant background while they worked. Mikasa set plates out, taking over after Thomas had accidentally broken one.

Jean and Eren were laying out centerpieces, arguing about where they should be on the table. They argued about everything ever since they met.

“No, those flowers should be at the other end of the table.”

“No, those are Christa's favorite flowers; they should be right in front of her place.”

“Well _these_ are Armin's favorites, so they should go in front of Armin's place, but they sit right across from each other, so that's too many flowers at one end of the table.”

“Hey, you stepped on my foot!”

“You probably stepped on your own foot, moron.”

“That doesn't even make sense!”

“That's exactly why you did it.”

“I'm gonna tell Mikasa you're being mean!”

“You wouldn't dare. She'd bloody your nose too.”

“...shit. Well, you still stepped on my foot.”

“Whatever you say, poor wittle baby.”

“ _What did you just call me_?”

“Boys!” Mikasa reprimanded from the other side of the room.

“See, I told you she wouldn't be on your side.”

“Well, she's not on your side, either.”

“Obviously she's on my side, she's my sister!”

“Uh-huh. And that's why she always beats you up.”

“It's not fair; girls mature faster and she's had more practice.”

“I think you mean you're a little wimp.”

“Shut up, horse-face.”

At the other side of the room, Ymir and Reiner were moving tables and carrying chairs in. They didn't say anything to each other, but they competed to see who could carry more chairs in at once. Reiner insisted they stop when Ymir almost fell over, trying to lift ten chairs. She was a sore loser, but listened.

Erwin stood at the front of the hall, watching the happy interactions. Levi was inspecting each plate and the silverware after they were set down. When Erwin asked him if Levi didn't trust Connie, the dishwasher, he was surprised with Levi's response.

“I want everything to be perfect for them.”

Erwin gave him a soft, fond look, but Levi was already back to impassively holding a fork up to the light, debating whether it shined enough or not.

Everything was ready to go an hour early, and the castle quieted down for the evening, anticipation seeming tangible in the air.

Bertholdt and Armin were in Armin's chambers. Armin reemerged from the bathroom in his fancy garb. His father insisted that he wear it; it had been Erwin's when he was his age. It was a little too loose on Armin; he wasn't exactly as muscular as Erwin had been.

He scratched at it by his neck, uncomfortable. Bertholdt came forward and helped him fix his buttons.

“It does not quite fit you as well as he had hoped,” Bertholdt chuckled, folding the collar over.

“I suppose not,” Armin said quietly.

“Are you not excited?”

“I am, it's just...” Armin paused, at a loss for words. “I just don't know anything about how to run a castle. In a few years, I'll have to and I'll have no idea what to do.”

“You know exactly what to do, Armin. You have passed all of your studies very well.”

“I know _how_ to do it, but I don't know how to _execute_ it well. Christa would be better suited for this than I am,” he tried to explain.

“Christa had her own reasons for declining the throne. Now, it is your turn to show you are just as suited for the throne as she is. You will be a fine king,” Bertholdt said.

“Thank you.”

“Are you ready to go?” he asked.

“Yes, I think so. Are we walking with Christa and Annie as well?”

“Yes, we will head to her room now.”

They walked in comfortable silence to Christa's room. Armin waited outside the door, unsure if he should knock or just open. It turned out that he didn't need to do either of those things; Annie pushed open the door from the inside and revealed Christa, standing before them.

“Wow,” Armin breathed. Their mother's old dress fit her perfectly. It clung to her at all the right places, and the soft blue brought contrasted from her pale complexion and light hair. She practically glowed in that dress.

“You look amazing, Christa,” Armin complimented her, feeling silly in his too-big outfit.

“Thanks! I like it.” She twirled, admiring the fabric.

“Mother must have been very talented. Father said she made this herself.”

Armin smiled and held out his arm for Christa.

“Shall we?” Christa slid her hand through Armin's arm and nodded. Annie and Bertholdt followed behind them.

They paused in front of the closed doors to the grand hall. Annie and Bertholdt each took a door and waited to pull them open.

“Ready?” asked Christa.

“Ready,” Armin confirmed.

The doors swung open and there was a paused of silence before the hall erupted in cheers and noise as the twins stepped in. They parted and walked to their respectful places on either side of King Erwin. On the other side of Christa was Levi and on the other side of Armin was Eren. He was surprised that Erwin allowed Eren to sit at the head table, but he was eternally grateful. Eren smiled and bumped Armin's elbow with his own. Armin grinned back.

Erwin motioned for silence and his booming voice filled the hall.

“Here's to Christa and Armin,” he said, scanning the tables, “on their seventeenth birthday.”

“Except I'm seventeen first!” Christa cut in. Scattered laughter filled the hall.

Erwin sighed, smiling.

“On their seventeenth birthday,” he repeated. “Today is a very special day. Today they are of age, and in three years, my son will become king. Today we also celebrate the safe return of one of our best young knights, Eren Jaeger. And lastly, today we celebrate the life of my wife, who passed away this very day sixteen years ago. This is an important day, so now we feast! Remember to thank Mr. Bodt and Ms. Braus after the meal. Thank you!”

With that, he sat down and everyone dug into the delicious meal. Armin chatted with his family, Levi, and Eren throughout the meal, and the evening passed quickly. Armin could not have been happier, save for the lurking feeling that he would have to tell his father that he would not be ruling with a queen at his side. He honestly hadn't bothered to make contact with the other kingdoms around them. He ignored the thought and watched Jean try to rub something out of Marco's hair. He watched Christa sneak looks at Ymir, who sat at the table behind Christa. He watched Hannes, a knight, red-faced, pass out in his plate of food. He watched Eren eat, smile, talk—he would watch Eren do anything, for that matter.

Everything was completely blissful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is the second to last chapter. The next chapter will be an epilogue. Thank you for reading this, it means a lot to me!


	13. Epilogue

Their wedding was the most beautiful thing the kingdom had seen yet.

It wasn't a huge ordeal, and not everybody in the castle came, but quite a few did, and that was enough for them. It was held outside, everything swept and cleaned up, perfect for the evening. The evening was gorgeous; the skies were dark blue, the grass was wet and lush, and the clouds were sparse. That is, until the lightning storm came. It was a frantic rush to pull everything back inside the castle, but it didn't bother them much. The only person who complained was Ymir, who said in a loud undertone to Reiner that she had done all the work, which led to another “friendly” competition. Erwin had overseen the whole thing, every step of the way. He often glanced at them fondly, as if they were both his children. Levi had scrubbed every muddy footstep along the way, mumbling to himself about how when children get excited, they always make a mess.

Christa was the flower girl, skipping along. At one point, she dumped a handful of flowers on Levi's head, saying that he looked to grumpy for a wedding. They improvised for most traditional things. Connie led people to their seats and passed out drinks, telling jokes and keeping the mood light. He did it courtesy of the couple, saying it would honor him to be involved. Mikasa and Sasha were the bridesmaids, looking lovely in their dresses. Sasha was energetic as usual, poking Mikasa every now and then, trying to get her to laugh. Much to Mikasa's distaste, Sasha succeeded. Erwin spoke, saying the traditional words to bring them together in marriage. From her seat, Petra whistled and clapped loudly, almost as excited as if it were her own wedding.

“Today, we are gathered to bring these two young men together in marriage. One, showing great courage, and one, showing great compassion. They complement each other and I can assume we all want them to live a long, happy life together.” He turned to face them, waiting for the clapping to stop. “Do you, Marco, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do.”

“Do you, Jean, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do.”

“Then I pronounce you married. You may kiss.”

The flustered sound Marco made when Jean dipped him into an over-dramatic flamboyant kiss was drowned out by the clapping and cheering and happy sounds of the audience. It was music to their ears.

Back in their seats, in the second row, Armin curled his hand in Eren's. “They look really happy,” he said, grinning.

“They are,” Eren assured.

“Do you think that'll be us eventually?” Armin asked, sounding hopeful.

“Oh, I know so,” he replied, turning to kiss Armin's cheek. “I'll make sure to dip you just like that.” He waggled his eyebrows.

“Eren, don't you dare,” Armin said, scandalized.

Eren laughed and shook his head fondly, unable to keep the grin off his face. “No promises.”

Mikasa came by and stood near them, a smile plastered on her face as well. “I'm surprised you aren't taking this opportunity to—”

“Mikasa!”

“Sorry, sorry. Are you enjoying the festivities?”

“Obviously. Are you enjoying your dress?” Eren snickered.

She made a face and shrugged. “Remember that time you said we do everything together? Well, I guess that means it's your turn to wear a dress next.”

“Aw, hell,” he muttered, face turning pink.

“I wouldn't mind,” Armin teased, and then he clapped his hand over his mouth. “That didn't sound like I planned it to, I swear!”

Mikasa and Eren laughed, making his face turn redder. “You guys are jerks,” he mumbled.

The evening passed quickly; they made their way around to everyone, chatting and carrying on, until Eren couldn't think of any more small talk lines to use. That night, after Armin flopped down on the bed, he glanced over at Eren, taking his hand. When he spoke, it was the closest thing he could think of to saying 'I love you.' Not quite yet, he thought reasonably.

“I always thought I wanted to see the ocean more than anything, but I don't think I'd ever want to see the ocean without you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this took so long. It's finally done! Thank you for taking the time to read it.

**Author's Note:**

> For Katie (and beta'd by Katie)  
> New chapters to be posted within a week.


End file.
